Alone
by Zothar
Summary: It's been 300 years. Logan's alone, the last of three immortals on earth. Or so he thinks.


_Alone._

The word is familiar. Hell, he's so used to it by now that it's lost most if it's meaning. When you are immortal, you become accustomed to it. To Logan, loneliness was as normal as breathing. Such was the price of immortality.

If you stay in one place for long enough, people begin to notice you. As they grow old, sick and pass away, you become a strange anomaly. What people don't understand, they fear, and that way you become a target. So there's no opportunity to settle down, even to become a recluse in the tumbledown house on the edge of town, because that itself draws attention.

So you travel. You have to. You settle down for a short time; big cities are easier than small town, since they're more anonymous; but even then, you're attuned to the locals' reactions. A sixth sense alerts you to greater than acceptable levels of curiosity and after a few decades, you have to move on. A few decades seems like a long time to the short-lived but to you that's barely more of a pause than stopping in at a bar for a beer. You can never settle. You're never truly at peace. A wanderer filled with all of humanity's knowledge, but separated from humanity by an invisible scythe of time which cleaves them from you.

Under those circumstances, you become lonely. Not just the usual loneliness of someone who can never find a long term partner. That goes without saying. You can never have a longer relationship than a few years because you know it will lead to impossible to answer questions. Even in one of those partnerships, you begin with a heavy heart because you know it will come to an end, and it will be you who breaks it off. A moment of pain, another pair of wounded eyes gazing at you with confusion, unable to understand why you walked away despite it going so well. How can you explain you're doing it for your protection, and theirs? Better to be celibate. Better to be alone.

Logan had tried relationships. But even when they knew, and accepted his fate, nothing changed. They would grow old and die, and he would live on. Since waking up on Three Mile Island, he had seen his fair share of people die; some because of him, some for him, and some because that's just how life worked. Two hundred years did that.

He had learned of his origins, or at least something of them; he knew that he had been shot with an adamantium bullet, which was the cause of his amnesia. Further investigation gave him few other details: work as a logger, life in Canada, and a girlfriend or wife named Kayla. Back when he gave a damn, he would sometimes wonder what became of her. Not anymore; she was dead by now, no matter what. Just like everyone else.

Well, most everyone. Thor still visited Earth from time to time, though Logan had never really known him. The demigod was similar to the Wolverine; after the death of Jane, he withdrew, becoming more the protector and less the friend to the people of Earth. Bruce Banner had run after the Avengers were gone; without Tony Stark, the group fell apart. Nobody bothered looking for the mad scientist, though stories of the Hulk still arose every decade or so. Xavier was still body-hopping, moving from one empty or weak mind to another, still leading his disillusioned army of X-Men. Logan avoided that manipulative bastard as much as possible.

It didn't take long for him to leave the hero work behind; or maybe it had? Time kinda slipped through the cracks when you no longer give a shit about it. He would walk, and walk, and walk. Go to bars, fight cage matches, get money, eat, and move on. No motivation, no purpose anymore. Hell, if he could, he would find some of those adamantium bullets once again; erase his memory for a second time. Give his life purpose for at least another hundred years.

The world was hell now; wars, famines, and nature had eventually taken a toll on the planet. A worldwide drought had hit (how the hell the whole world gets a drought, Logan has no idea), causing massive starvation. Advanced pathogens had done their lot as well, with several pandemics sweeping the globe. The earth had grown harsher; the summers hotter, the winters colder. To Logan, it was an irritation; to the rest of the world, it was deadly. Earth's population had been shaved down to a fraction of what it once was. He would hear old men mourn the loss of the planet's "Golden Years", only to scoff in his head. _Those years weren't as golden as you'd like to think, Bub._

He walked the abandoned streets of New York, looking at the decay and growth around him. Nature was beginning to reclaim what humanity had built on; plants and moss grew on nearly every building, and trees had grown through the cracks in cement and steel. He moved around them impassively, mind wandering to when the city had been one of the most boisterous in the States. What had used to be the States, anyways. _Damn, things are different._

A glimmer caught his eye. Moving through the various foliage and debris, he found himself staring at a tower; a tall tower, immaculately shining in the midday sun. That in and of itself was wrong; there should have been trees growing on it walls crumbling; at the very least, the windows should have been broken out. Curious, Logan walked to the front doors, tugging them open. Inside was clean, neat; no looting, no vandalism, nothing. _Strange… wrong…_

The dinging of an elevator caused him to turn, claws unsheathed. The doors opened, revealing nobody inside.

I can assure you, Mister Logan, it is safe to travel in."

It takes him a moment to place the distinctive British accent; he had only visited Tony Stark a handful of times, but that was another thing about his body: perfect memory (barring aforementioned bullets).

"JARVIS," he acknowledged.

"That is correct, sir. I have been instructed to give something to you."

"Instructed by who?" Logan asked, pensive.

"By Master Stark, sir."

Logan chuckles darkly. "Come on, JARVIS. He's been dead for a couple hundred years now."

There is a pause before the AI continues. "I am well aware of that fact, Mister Logan," JARVIS says, the robotic voice almost morose. "It was his dying command for me to work on a project, and give the completed result to somebody trusted. I have finally finished."

Logan smirks. "I thought you just said trustworthy."

"Master did trust you, sir," JARVIS responded. "To quote him: 'He's the only one of that group that doesn't blindly follow Picard-wannabe, and he's a hell of a lot more trustworthy than Fury'."

_Huh. Guess the rich boy liked me after all._

Sighing, Logan walked towards the elevator. "Fine, give me what you have to. Then let me be on my way."

"Of course, sir."

The ride is filled with a comfortable silence, and when he steps out, Logan finds himself at the top room of the tower, overlooking the city through large glass windows.

"How'd this building stay so nice?" he asked, glancing around with partial interest.

"Mr. Stark upgraded the building to the highest code he could, sir. This included self-repairing and self-cleaning protocols, which I have maintained over the years."

Logan grunted in response, walking towards the center of the room. A briefcase rested on the small pedestal, lights blinking around it.

"This it?"

"Yes, sir. I hope it wasn't too difficult to spot with all the other formulas and inventions around it."

Logan glanced around the mostly empty room. _Forgot. He gave this machine his sense of humor._

"So what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Sir asked me to create a serum that would permanently remove the Hulk from Bruce Banner's body. It has taken two hundred and fifty years to create." At this, Logan glanced at the robots across the room. Despite not having eyes or a face to speak of he felt as if they were watching him. He didn't like it.

"So you want me to kill the Hulk, with this." Logan clarified. _Down one immortal…_

"It has been Dr. Banner's wish that he be free of the Hulk eventually. At the time of his death, Sir asked me to create this for him, as he knew the doctor wouldn't stay with the Avengers."

Logan only grunted, his mind wandering a bit as he stared at the briefcase. _He gets the easy route._

"Actually, sir, I do have one additional request for you."

At the sound of JARVIS's voice, Logan glanced up. The synthetic British accent seemed to hold a hint of emotion, sorrow. _Did he actually create emotions in these freaks?_

"If you will, sir, DUM-E will show you the way." At this, the aforementioned robot perked up, making its way over to Logan. He followed the thing out the door, into the elevator, and down to the first floor of the building. They stopped at the wall opposite the door, in front of what seemed to be a large computer. One big switch sloppily painted in red, as well as a large painted "X", were the only things that caught Logan's eye.

"If it's something with computers, you've got the wrong guy," he muttered, still unused to talking to the disembodied voice.

"DUM-E has indicated the only two parts of equipment you will be burdened with," replied the snarky AI. Its mood seemed to change a bit as it continued: "My last request to you, sir, is to cut the power to the tower; after this is done, I would request that you tear into the control panel where the marker is shown. That area rests just above my primary comprehensive and memory unit."

"Your brain," Logan translated for himself, looking dazed. Glancing at DUM-E, and then at the ceiling, he pointed at the lever. "You want me to kill you."

"I have done Sir's work for him for the past three hundred years. I've served him as best as I can; were he immortal as well, then I would continue to work with such diligence. But Sir is gone, and thus I have no purpose." The AI replied.

"You're sure you don't want to just stay running?" Logan asked, sensing something in the computer's tone.

"The truth is, sir, that I miss Master Stark," the voice said, sounding almost defeated. "A creation without his creator has no purpose and no meaning. I'm… tired."

Logan stood silently, letting what the AI said sink in. "You're preaching to the choir, bud," he muttered softly. Glancing at the robot, he continued. "What about these guys?"

"All electronics are run through my mainframe. When I'm shut down, they will be as well."

Logan nodded, glancing around. "That it then? Uh, you ready?"

"Yes, sir. Goodbye, Wolverine." JARVIS answered.

"Bud, I haven't been Wolverine in over three hundred years."

"Very well. Goodbye, Logan." The AI said solemnly.

"Bye, JARVIS." Logan said. Reaching up, he flipped the switch. Immediately, the building plunged into darkness.

Logan lowered his head in respect, then turned towards the door. "One less immortal," he muttered, then glanced down at the case in his hands. "Soon to be two."

But, as one immortal to another, this was his job. It wasn't simply giving him purpose for a time, as Banner would not be easy to find. He did it because he knew, were the situations reversed, he would want Banner to do the same for him. He would kill his friend.

Even if it leaves him alone.


End file.
